The Sound of Your Voice Calls to Me
by peachtree3
Summary: Nesta is arranged to be married to a duke. As much as she hates the idea, she is the only one who can help her family from destitution. In a fit of rage, she makes a promise with the blacksmith to take her frustrations out on him. One night, turns into a thousand stolen dreams. But her fiance comes to collect his bride. (Nessian /All characters eventually)
1. Chapter 1

Inspired by Opening by Craig Armstrong, and sparkleywonderful for giving me the music. Also, I have no idea what time-period this, I honestly feel like I mixed a bunch of them together.

* * *

Chapter 1:

His hands trailed along the bodice of her gown, traveling to lands too far away for her to recognize. As rough as his palms were, he was gentle in his caresses. He grasped her like a favorite book, with careless enthusiasm and cautious aim. Leaving her gasping and waiting. He _always_ made her ache for more.

His lips danced with hers, feasting and fighting. Strong and powerful, full of fire that burned the two of them beneath their willow tree. Her chest heaved, craving air, but she yearned for the sweet taste of his lips. The pull stronger than any impulse her body desired.

She was lost to him, lost in him. Welded together to create an art that made artists weep and lovers cry. She recognized nothing but the sounds of his breath and the touch of his body to hers. She couldn't even hear the loud ringing of the clock tower as it struck noon, as if she were a princess waiting for a spell to wear off.

It took all the strength of her body to resist the continuous grazes, and even then, she wished she had more time. Her body ached to be near him, yearned to hold on to a gift she'd almost never had. Wanted to become something else, if only to stay in the moment longer than she'd been allowed.

His eyes met hers, two flames heated by the mere presence of their bodies. Together at last, but not forever, not now. The clock chimed again, and her brows furrowed. His head rested along hers and he sighed deeply. They were so close she could feel the strong movement of his lungs. She closed her eyes and hoped, prayed that it would last for a minute longer. She wouldn't ask for more.

She remembered the first time she felt that mouth. Gazed at those ever-present hazel eyes, a view that told a story she had wanted to spend minutes, hours, days reading. Her hands clenched at the longing. It was easier then, she didn't have so much to lose.

She looked back towards the estate, and met his eyes once more. The small smile on his face told her he was contented with the moments they stole from fate. He leaned in one more time, and even if it only lasted for the arm of the clock to move a mere centimeter, it left her with little air and a great ache in her chest.

* * *

Nesta always believed that the estate was too big for the four of them. She argued often and loudly that they would be better off living in a smaller house, one where they didn't have to hire people to do what they could do themselves. One they could afford to live in.

It didn't help that the walls and the floors were covered in white, like a massive snowstorm had made its way into the house and had never left. She figured it was her mother's idea. To show the world that they were polished and perfect. She supposed it was fitting, their lives _were_ easily tarnished by dirt and debris.

She traveled through the expansive foyer, through the elongated hallways that twisted and turned. Even she, having lived here her whole life, got lost in the sea of forbidden bricks and echoing walls. She walked until she reached the large oak door. Ingrained with art that told a story of romances and entrapment. Nesta always thought they were one and the same.

When she entered the room, she could smell the fresh paint. As sure as the breeze that glided along her face. Feyre was painting by the open window. Her little sister, the only one who had an ounce of artistry in their blood. The sound of the door shutting made Feyre turn towards Elain, giving her a knowing look.

"Someone turn off all the lights, she's practically glowing." Feyre replied sardonically.

Nesta was unamused. Elain simply smiled from her seat on the couch, crocheting pretty flowers with colorful yarn. She never mentioned what she thought about the whole ordeal, but Nesta never questioned the quiet steady rhythm of the middle Archeron.

"Did he go back to the furnace?" Feyre questioned. She had nicknamed the workshop that when she was little. She'd said it was too hot to be called anything else. The blacksmith's keep was home to those most skilled in weapons and finery. She had met Cassian there a very long time ago. Even now she wished she was there instead.

She could still envision the spirit of a boy who had believed he owned the world. The image of someone so imperfect and sincere, the utter idea of him set her blood to flames. She could still feel the hope thrumming through her chest, the hope he gave her that day. Regrettably, time was greater than her optimism.

Nesta merely nodded in affirmation. Her mind far away from the presence of her sisters and the small room that would likely trap her in enclosed walls.

"What? Dream boat got you in a bind?" Feyre asked laughingly. Nesta rolled her eyes, though she couldn't help the small smile that appeared on her lips. She picked up the throw pillow and threw it at her head. Feyre caught it without looking. Skilled in many ways, indeed.

"One day, Feyre, you are going to meet someone who makes you laugh, laugh and cry, and you won't want to part with them a minute longer than necessary. That's the day _I_ will laugh at _you_ , and you will finally realize what despair and hope feels like."

Feyre mocked Nesta's expression, and laughed. "Ever the dramatic one, big sister."

The knock on the door startled them both. No one bothered them between noon and late evening. The hours usually reserved for study and practice. Being perfect wives took a dedication few had enough skill to follow. Still, the knock sounded, harder as the minutes passed.

Each sister looked at each other, but it was Elain who opened the door. The servant bowed deeply, handed her an envelope and scurried away. In gold lettering, only one word was printed on the front of the casing. _Nesta_.

* * *

"In a month's time, your fiancé will be here to present you to society. _And_ to announce your engagement. We all wanted this to happen. You are single-handedly fixing this whole family. It's something to be proud of."

But Nesta didn't feel proud. The only thing she felt was a bitter, solemn grief that welled up inside of her. Her father didn't understand, couldn't understand. Even she didn't understand the meaning behind his words. _Fiancé_. Such a strange word uttered from his lips. Foreign and impossible.

"Father, call it off. Break the deal, I don't want to anymore."

It was necessary then. She had signed that contract to stop her family from entering the poor house and leaving behind everything she grew up with, leaving her sisters with nothing, not even the clothes on their backs. It was still necessary, though she wouldn't admit to it out loud. Things had changed. Substantially.

Her father sighed and leaned back on his chair. The wrinkle in his brow deepened.

"Now, Nesta. I have bought you everything a young lady should have. The finest clothes, the best education, the richest associations. All I ask of you is to do this small, inevitable act. Marry this man. You'll be happy, you'll see."

But she couldn't see, her vision had become hazy as soon as she had torn that envelope. Addressed to her in the finest of lettering, giving her a message she never thought was possible. But she did know it was possible, when she had signed that contract. What she didn't predict was the man she fell in love with, waiting for her to finish her lessons. Always waiting for her.

"I can't father." She sounded. Pain etched in her words. He continued once more," Nesta, it's entirely necessary. You don't have a choice."

She couldn't bear the thought of touching someone else, sharing a bed with someone else, having someone else's children. "I can't" she repeated, closing her eyes.

Nesta lurched forward when she heard the harsh pound of a fist yielding to the wood of his desk. "And why not?" Her father questioned. She could feel the windows rattle from the echo of his voice.

"I love someone else." She answered honestly. She did. The man who stole her heart and gave her his to replace it. The man whose eyes sparkled every time he looked at her. The man who made her heart beat rapidly until she was sure it would jump out of her chest. That was the man she loved. Not this one, one she'd never met.

"Are you still meeting that boy?" Her father inquired. He knew. Everyone seemed to know about her and Cassian. A secret that was anything but secretive. In retrospect, meeting on the estate wasn't the smartest idea she'd ever had.

"It's not right for a woman to be seen alone with a man. There are morals to uphold, standards to be kept. Have you no shame?" He inquired. His voice getting louder with every word. The anger that was slowly festering deep in the well of her heart, began to pound achingly in her head. It thrashed around, refusing to relent to her calm and steady breathing. It wanted to escape, and she wanted to let it, if only to stop the batter of the throbbing beat.

"My shame doesn't lie with my actions, but the inaction of others." She said indignantly, meeting his stare with look of her own. The only shame her family carried was the shame of a man who had sold his daughter to the highest bidder.

Silence echoed throughout the room, but Nesta believed her father to be anything but speechless. She could see resentment reflected at her. Disappointment for not playing the dutiful fiancé, displeasure at the arguments that came rushing out her lips and never seemed to stop, indignation at having someone like her for a daughter.

Nesta had settled her score long ago, she was not her mother. Though she looked like her through and through. Her father couldn't expect her to be like his late wife. She opened her mouth to say as much, but before even a sound could be heard from her lips, her father was already speaking.

"You will forget that boy, and you _will_ marry this man. I don't want to hear another word." He stated, as he clasped his hands together and leaned back on his chair. As sure of a dismissal as she'd ever heard one. Nesta left the room before she screamed at the whole world, fate, and her father.

Nesta couldn't help but think she was going to throttle whoever this man was.

* * *

Be forewarned that this is probably going to be like 26 chapters. So if you're not into waiting, just empty this story right out of your mind.(shrugs)

Till Next time, Chicas(os) And as always comment, I like to know what you guys think


	2. Chapter 2

Honestly took me forever to write, but here it is. Inspired by so much music I won't list it or that'd be a whole other story. There's probably typos and what not, it may not even be the best. But I was tired of writing this chapter, it's the least interesting of all of them, So… what can you do? (Shrugs)

* * *

Chapter 2:

Nesta ran until her breath came out in gasps. Her feet traveling on a pathway she had walked many times before. The wind touched her face with an icy hand, but she still felt feverish. The darkness of the forest enclosed in on her, trapping her from the wide expanse of the sky. She couldn't help but feel as if some great beast had swallowed her whole.

He was seated on the rock bed on the edge of the lake. His hair, dark as midnight, was tied behind his neck. She thought he looked beautiful, magical even. A mythical creature caught in the middle of a forest. Her breathing raced on as if it, too, had grown feet.

His skin glistened, as it often was from the high temperatures of the keep. He was always there whenever they weren't together. His passion as much as it was his job. Nesta was convinced that if they had never met, if they had never felt the taste of each other's skin, he'd still be hammering away into the late hours of the night. She almost wished they hadn't. _Almost._

Cassian must have sensed her presence because he turned to face her. She wouldn't be surprised if he had, he knew her like the back of his hand. One glance in her direction and he could see the million thoughts going through her head, right at that moment. He always knew, when her thoughts made her feel like she was as combustible as gasoline. Nesta was grateful for it.

The mere sight of him, of his furrowed brows and his large stature, had her lunging in his arms. She wanted to be fully buried in his scent before the tears rushed out of her. He quickly encircled his huge form around her, and held on tightly. Just held her as she tried not to let the dam she had spent her whole life building, break beneath their feet.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" He softly questioned. Her eyes clenched together at the sound. She wanted to engrain the rough scratch of his voice in her brain, to write it along every corridor. She wanted to remember the feel of his arms and the tingles that walked up her spine at the pleasure it invoked. She wanted it all.

But those were the words that broke her. The words that had the tears running out of her like a pipe had burst and nothing could stop its rushing waters. Nesta didn't know when she started sobbing, but she could feel Cassian's arms tighten around her. He quietly shushed her, rocking her back and forth. Nesta tried not to think about the fact that she'd never feel this warm again.

He rubbed her head and padded her back until her cries turned into hiccups. Her throat felt hoarse. She looked at the lake, and saw her reflection below. Her eyes were red, her face was blotchy. She didn't look like someone who would make a good wife. She didn't feel like a good one, either.

"I'm getting married." She said at last. Cassian only laughed, though she thought she could see the horror flash in his eyes.

"You were always getting married." He responded, nonchalantly. That's the reason she had come to him in the first place, made this promise of secret meetings and inevitable heartbreak. She just hadn't realized he would be the reason it would be so hard to leave.

She took his hands in hers, and traced the lines of his palms with her fingertips. Nesta wouldn't meet his eyes. She didn't want to meet his eyes; her heart would have broken from the view.

"He'll be here in a week." She admitted. For a while, he said nothing. Even when she looked up at him, he merely looked away. His back was rigid as if ice had frozen him to the ground below. She tried to hold his hand, to comfort him or her she didn't know, but he lurched out her grasp.

Her eyes drifted close, and she waited for the outburst, the anger that would rush out of his mouth like a roar. After all, she would have been angry. She supposed it was warranted, though Nesta didn't like the thought. They would both be fed to the crows, though each in their own way. And very soon, it seemed.

"Let's run away." Cassian suddenly said. Nesta's gaze snapped to his. He grabbed her by the arms, his hands clenching her tiny frame. Willing his grasp to spur her movement and enthusiasm. "Just you and me. We can take on the world together."

The small tilt of her head was the only movement she could make. It gained fervor as the idea settled like dust. Her lungs felt as if it had caught too much air, no more could fit or fill the expanse of her. And just like that, hope drifted in. A long-lost friend that had come to say hello.

But Nesta, however the tables turned, couldn't help but think it was more of a goodbye.

* * *

They had set the date. They had dotted their I's and crossed their t's. They were going to do this. A unit, an unstoppable force that had been honed and sharpened by the greatest weapon's master. They, Nesta and Cassian, would be where they wanted to be. They'd be with _who_ they wanted to be with, and nothing was going to stop them. Not the universe or a contract signed by a young girl who knew very little about investments.

Two weeks from today they'd be long gone, and far away from the wretched house and its inhabitants. Two weeks and she'd be away from the stigmas and standards that came with being the eldest, and by default, the sustainer of their welfare. Two weeks and she'd be away from her sisters.

That was the only thought that made Nesta pause. The idea twisted her stomach in knots until even a small movement had her hovered over in pain. Moving on would mean a lot more than just simply leaving a house. She would be leaving her family to fend for themselves.

If Elain and Feyre noticed the odd behavior of their sister, they didn't comment. She was secretly grateful for it. Nesta didn't know if she'd have the heart or the will to remain standing before them, when all she wanted to do was get on her knees and beg for forgiveness. She was leaving them, for love. She didn't know if that was a good enough reason.

They were sitting in the drawing room, as they often were from noon to four. A wife's preparation. A women's greed. They never learned about women who invented things, who sailed across worlds, or created art by the touch of their fingertips. To them, women who carved history in rock, women who revealed secrets the universe had kept under lock and key, women who shook the very Earth at its core, did not exist. It was the one thing Nesta resented the most about the time she spent "studying."

Elain's soft smile was drawn across her face. A ray of light from the open window danced with her hair. Nesta couldn't help but picture her as the one trapped in a tower, always looking down at the flowers below, far beyond reach and comprehension.

Feyre was painting as per usual. She stole glances of it from time to time. She could see glimpses of blue birds in grey cages. It made her soul weep. They kept to themselves, while she watched and observed. She'd be giving up a lifetime of rules, but she'd also give up a lifetime of memories. Her fists clenched in agony.

She heard the yells of footmen and the bustling of servants, they all rushed to the window at the sound. An ornate carriage was being pulled by four white horses. The bridles and the edges of the freight were lined in gold. Nesta would have thought it was beautiful, if not for the fact that the very image made the fear churn inside. Her hands started to shake.

The door burst open, and her father stood before them. His hair was in disarray, and his face was pale. Nesta closed her eyes. She knew what was happening before words had even left his lips. She supposed it was always meant to be like this. She did have the worst luck, after all.

Her father ushered her forth. Grasping her by the shoulders, he looked her over. She hadn't been doing anything, she was never doing anything. He should had known by now that she always looked perfect. It was what their future was built upon.

"Every day I scorned the Earth for giving me a daughter, when I asked for son. But today, you'll become useful to this family. Today, you'll make me proud." He preached. Nesta swallowed the bitterness that crept in like shadows behind her figure.

They made their way out into the courtyard, walking briskly. Nesta's heart raced faster than she moved. Her father and she stood side by side at the front lines, Feyre and Elain following behind. They poised themselves to greet their unexpected guest. A very unwanted guest.

The carriage slowed, and men dropped down to secure the vehicle. They showed no joy, no laughter or mirth. They all looked the same. Grim lines and cold eyes. Nesta resisted the urge to hold herself tightly.

When he stepped out of his carriage, Nesta swore the birds stopped chirping. The soft breeze didn't caress her hair, the servants made no movement. No one made a sound, almost as if the whole Earth was holding its breath and waiting. Waiting for the world to collapse.

He held his head high, his back arched so straightly that she'd thought he'd snap if the wind ever picked up again. He paid little heed to the servants that bowed graciously before him. He encircled each one of them with his gaze, analyzing and deprecating all those he deemed unworthy. His stare was as sharp as an arrow, and Nesta was not at all good with the bow.

"Lord Hybern, welcome to the Estate." Her father gestured to the manor she had called her prison. The man, Hybern, looked at it, bored. Her father's attention quickly found her own and did not let go. He took her hand and pulled her to him.

"This is my daughter, you're fiancé. I believe you'll find her agreeable." He said humbly. The man with the cold eyes looked her over. A prized horse at an auction, being bade and bought for the highest price. She saw no inclination of the favor he bestowed on her.

As his head moved up from his assessment, she saw his stoic gaze zero in on her sister from behind. Feyre. She saw the interest light up in his eyes. A pretty, young thing he could play with. Nesta didn't know who darkened first, the sky or her temper.

She quickly placed herself between him and Feyre. Nesta's heart started to thump rapidly, but she willed herself to show she was every bit of the duchess he would be proud to have. Like she'd ever let him touch her sister

"My name is Nesta, I believe I am to be your wife." She proclaimed, stepping closer to his body. She bowed deeply, showing her gratitude, her deep admiration, her duties of a wife. She could feel the deep rise and fall of her chest and even as her heart pounded she stared into his eyes. She willed him not to break her stare, to not look at her sister like that. Like she was meat for slaughter.

Because in that moment, she remembered what love felt like. The fierce protection of lioness ready to pounce, ready to survive and kill.

Oh, she'd marry him. She'd marry and ruin him.

* * *

They had met when they were sixteen. Almost three years ago. She had signed away her freedom for food on the table and warmth at night. Freedom was the only thing Nesta had owned, and it hadn't even belonged to her.

She remembers the storm clouds, remembers the shock of every one that it had poured when the skies were clear just moments ago. As if the universe had wanted to cry, right beside her. To yell and to scream in her stead, while she played the perfect daughter.

She remembers the way Cassian's arms held her to him, as she sobbed, crying out in vengeance. He had found her out there, in the forest. When she could no longer take the praises of her father and the gossip of her sisters. Though she didn't understand why he was there. She was grateful that he was.

She remembers the hours she spent with him afterwards. Meeting between lessons, between work, between secrets. She loved sharing things with him, her thoughts, her life. He told her he liked to listen to them, even if she thought they were mundane and dull. She would always smile and continue.

For the first time in her short lifetime, she did not yearn for the days to end. She just wanted them to last.

* * *

"Tell me a secret" She asked beneath the stars. An audience of the grandest kind, watching them, breathing the two of them in. Twinkling with mischief and mirth, something she'd only dreamt of feeling. The sound of her heart echoed through her hollow body.

"Only if you tell me one." He answered, sparing her a glance from the corner of his eyes. She saw no judgment or folly reflected in his poignant gaze. But she thought she saw weariness set in. Like he too, had entered a battle meant for someone much stronger and more skilled than he. Her thoughts came rushing out of her, like a river had escaped its tomb.

"Sometimes I feel the wind call to me, even if It cannot take me anywhere." She whispered.

She looked up into the great abyss, ready to let it swallow her whole before she even had time to contemplate the consequences. A pull grasped her tongue, telling her to continue before the universe melted into existential calamity. Before she ran out of air.

Nesta breathed in the rushing waters of her thoughts. She let them flow and calm, let it center her to the part of space she alone existed in, in the space of her mind. She continued to speak the words she only whispered to the dark.

"I have no wings, and yet I love the taste of air and the breath of wind." She inhaled the music that made her pulse thrum in her veins. "It makes me feel free."

She lifted her hands to grasp the wide expanse of the sky, even if her arms were too short to reach and too small to hold it. The logistics didn't stop her from trying, if only to keep her heart from soaring far away from where she lied.

The silence permeated the space between them, as if the very Earth was standing on its tippy toes and holding its breath. Cassian twisted his body towards her, startling her out of her reverie.

"I want to kiss you." Nesta's heart skipped. He closed his eyes and exhaled, "I've always wanted to kiss you, but especially now. I want to." His eyes were wide and hesitant. Innocent, kind, and cautious. Like a young boy, afraid and alone, searching for safety.

Her heart sped up and she thought she could hear a chorus of melodies wafting through the forest floor. She stared into his eyes, quieting the hum of her thoughts. This, she could make on her own. A conscious decision of a want from the both of them. She let the silence ground her, the sweet still song of night.

"I wish you'd kiss me." She said at last. Nesta surprised even herself with the words, but she couldn't take them back, couldn't collect them like paper scattered on the floor. She didn't find she wanted to.

His posture slowly straitened, aligning to a remarkable idea and an astonishing outcome. He didn't want to miss his opportunity, and she didn't want him to. Nesta was given many thing in her short life, things she didn't ask or work for. But _this_ , this was hers. To keep and to cherish, to hide away behind lock and key.

When his lips touched hers, she wanted to laugh. At the sweetness, at the freedom, at the adventure. All hers, like she had created an art by the palm of her hands and was looking at the finished piece. Because she didn't care if people judged her, if they shunned her for her disobedience and reckless abandon. She wasn't doing it for them. Nesta was doing this for her, and she'd be damned if she let them take it away.

She _liked_ the softness of his mouth, the scent of his skin, the way her heart beat in tandem to his. Nesta liked that it was her question that spurred this action. She _loved_ every bit of air that escaped.

Shivers trailed along her spine, dancing with the rhythm of the night and the beat of wings. A truth for a truth, a wish for a wish. A breath for a breath, a kiss for a kiss.

Maybe, she could fly, if only for tonight.

* * *

I finally updated so there's that. I'm sorry if this confuses you, it'll make more sense later on. It also gets worse so hold on to your britches.

Do you like the story so far? Can you guess what's going to happen? Let me know. Until Next time!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Title: The Sound of Your Voice Calls to Me

Chapter Rating: T-ish (suggestive themes, and one word)

Summary: Nesta, the oldest of three sisters, is arranged to be married to a duke. As much as she hates the idea, she is the only one who can help her family from destitution. In a fit of rage, she makes a promise with the blacksmith to take her frustrations out on him. One night, turns into a thousand stolen moments deep in the forest, beneath willow trees, and the coolness of the lake. They think they have all the time in the world, but the duke comes to collect his precious fiancé.

* * *

The day she was supposed to meet Cassian, it rained. _Heavily._ It stormed so fiercely, Nesta believed the whole house would rise off its hinges and go to war with a monster of wind. She sat in the middle of her large bed, large enough to remind her that she was alone tonight, as the lightning flashed through her bedroom window. She stared at the forest beyond, and willed her heart to stop beating so quickly, or she swore it would stop all together.

She closed her eyes, chanting to herself that he wasn't there. He couldn't possibly be there, waiting for her. Someone deep inside of her said that it was _Cassian_ , of course, he'd be there. Rain wouldn't stop him from rescuing her from the dark.

Except, she didn't need to be rescued, she was saving herself. She was saving herself and her family from desolation, from the poor house and a ruined society. Nesta willed herself to not feel the pain as her heart shattered and her hope went with it. It seemed almost cruel to hold on to the hope if she wasn't with Cassian. He had made her feel so much.

Some part of herself wanted to believe that she was, also, doing this for him. Because whether she liked it or not, she was a burden few could bare forever. She was a mouth to feed, a person to care for, and she lacked any set of skill besides kissing and being an efficient wife. A thought that left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Cassian was a man of many trades. Not once had she'd seen him falter in anything. He never complained and he did his work diligently. People loved him, and he smiled often. She loved his smile, if she yearned for anything, it was for him to never stop. She wanted him to stay happy, but as for herself, she would settle for a husband she hoped was decent enough.

Cassian deserved the world. Not because he gave it to her, but for the fact that he made her see it differently. She wouldn't have argued if he had chosen that day to cut his losses and leave her be. Leave her to become an unhappy, married woman. It wasn't his problem or his arrangement. He had nothing to do with her lack of free will.

The thunder shook the window panes, and Nesta tucked her gown beneath her feet. She shook her head to silence her thoughts, but they waged on. Mighty warriors fighting in a war she would inevitably lose. She lost every time. She clenched her eyes together, tightening her arms around her legs. The warmth wouldn't appear, and she _wouldn't_ either.

Despite it all, Nesta knew one thing for certain, Cassian deserved much better than someone who left him waiting in the pouring rain.

* * *

The wedding took place on the estate, the last she'd see of her unwanted home. Preparations were already being made. Roses the color of champagne and lilies made up the better part of the house. When Elain had asked what flowers she preferred, Nesta had simply told her to choose whatever she liked. This wedding was for them anyways.

She paced through the halls, watched as her whole life become a performance, as if she were a puppet moved around on a string. It was hard to smile at the servants as they passed her and giggled, as they told her congratulations as if this whole thing was something she had wanted and yearned for. She supposed that's what it must have seemed like. But It was anything but the fairytales she told when Feyre was little.

Nesta looked at the walls, at the tapestries, at the extravagance of it all. A beautiful, decorated prison to hold her and her wildfire. A cage adorned in ivory and sunlight. Her fiancé would approve, he had a special taste for the ostentatious.

Feyre was in her room. Painting or reading, she wasn't sure. Nesta hoped she stayed there. Only until the wedding was over. Only until she was far away from this place, Hybern in tow. This whole act was for them. To keep them safe and protected and alive. Nesta never assumed that the being they let into their house was the same monster that could bring down its walls.

Though they talked of weddings, no one brought up the news about her fiancé, and she would have walked away if they did. It was hard enough to keep her face from contorting with disgust, it would be infinitely harder to keep it out her voice.

She had talked to him again, only once. He had merely stared at her bodice, while he spoke to her. She tried not to cringe at his perusal. He had told her he was pleased by the elegance of his "future" wife. She had physically gulped when he mentioned his distaste for the disobedient.

"I will have nothing less than the best. From you and my new family. I take it, you understand full well the things I am capable of." He whispered to her, while his hand had carefully fingered the buttons at the front of her gown. She could still feel the ghost of his presence at her waist.

A light tick on the window pane broke her out of her reverie. She stared at the glass, just stared at it. It would have melted from her gaze alone. It took her a long moment to investigate the sound. She grasped the handle and pushed forward. Left on the flowerbed was a note. Her heart sped up as she grasped the tiny square with the familiar handwriting.

 _Meet me tonight._

* * *

She walked to their spot, the spot she was supposed to meet him _that_ day. The ground was still wet from the rain. The sky darkened, and the moon lit her path. It didn't matter if she couldn't see it, her heart knew the way. It had been engraved in her from the very beginning.

As she walked, she went over what she would say to him. The excuses she'd give him for her lack of propriety. Nesta didn't think Cassian would believe any one of them. He always saw through her lies. She knew eventually she'd have to tell him the truth. Even if it _was_ like a hand squeezing her heart.

She walked until she was beneath the willow. The estate hidden behind the shadows and the tree illuminated by the moon. Nesta saw him leaning against the trunk. His muscles bulging from the crossing of his arms. He stared up at the sky like it would give him the answers he'd been longing for.

She waited, watching him. Outlining his presence like he'd be gone in a moment. Nesta almost wanted to stay in the silence, if only to keep the peace for a minute longer. But the anticipation made her soul ache even more than facing him.

The rustling of her feet caught his attention. His eyes widened and his back straightened. She saw it in his gaze, the rupture, the shatter. The unease of a person left unloved. Though his stance was strong and able, his eyes were breakable. Like a glass balancing on the edge of a table.

Cassian said nothing, just looked at her. Waiting as she had been. Waiting as he had done _that_ day. For a girl who could not give him half of what he gave her. She opened her mouth to speak, and he shook his head and looked away. She could see his fists clench.

"I know you, so honestly, I should have known you wouldn't come." He considered the darkness, staring into the oblivion like an old friend. "You don't have to say anything. I know why you did it." He wouldn't face her, and Nesta didn't know what she would have done with the sheen of his eyes.

"Cassian." She whispered. She gulped down the fresh air in gasps. "I wanted to go." And she did, she _wanted_ to feel his arms around her. She _wanted_ to hear his voice. She _wanted_ to emblaze the touch of his lips on hers. But it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

He turned to face her and her heart beat in uproar. His forehead touched her own. "I know Nesta, but it still hurts." His warm eyes did nothing to melt her icy blue ones. She had made her decision. Nesta could apologize for leaving him without a word, but she couldn't apologize for choosing her sisters over love.

She could feel the bricks piling up and up. Protecting her from agony, protecting her from him. She closed her eyes, refusing to witness the man in front of her for a minute longer. She could not regret, she _would_ not regret. Some part of her whispered that she was really protecting him, from the hurt she'd cause.

"It was bound to happen." She spoke with as much clarity as she could muster. Like she was speaking over tea, and not with the man she loved. Taking a page out of her father's book, she continued. "I would be married soon enough. That was inevitable." Her head lifted, her voice as booming as thunder.

"Nesta…" He began, but she wouldn't let him finish. Her chest was moving rapidly, up and down, up and down. Her breathing wouldn't even out, and her heart raced. It was all swarming in front of her, laid out for her choosing. She just had too many demands.

"I only wanted you, I never loved you." Her eyes were cold as she said it. Sharpened like a fine blade, as precise as a needle. Surprise registered in Cassian's gaze, and for a minute she wanted to take it back. Nesta couldn't if she tried, she wouldn't if she dared.

She could see the wheels turning in his head, flipping through each page of the book he wrote to guide him. He stared into her eyes, and she willed herself not to break. Not to show any weakness on the account of her notion. but the gleam, the bitterness, told Cassian another story. Within seconds, the fury erupted out of her, a volcano in desperate need to erupt.

His lips tilted upwards, and she swore she saw fire. Cassian grasped her chin in his hand and pulled her closer to his face. "You can't lie to me sweetheart. I know the truth." His lips were mere inches from hers. "You can tell me you hate me all you want to, you can yell and scream it. But you won't convince me." His gaze unsettled her. He let go and stepped away, she tried to hide the hollowness that appeared without warning. Nesta didn't know if she wanted to hit him or run to him and never let go.

She spoke slowly, clenching her teeth with each word. "The only thing you know is how to hit things with a hammer, don't pretend be some genius who can read minds. You don't know how I feel, you don't know me at all."

Like a whip had been snapped, outrage poured out of him. Cassian walked slowly towards her, like an animal on the prowl. He knew this game well. She played this game well.

"What, cat got your tongue?" She taunted by the sweet purse of her lips. His eyes lifted to meet hers.

"I think you love me, or you wouldn't be trying so hard to make me hate you."

She swallowed as she felt herself back into the rough wood of the tree. At least she had something to hold on to as she tried to catch her breath. His heat permeated the space between them.

"I want you." She whispered as she grappled with the reality she had only seen in a dream. She closed her eyes, wanting to feel him, only him. Nesta could feel his breath on her skin.

"You're engaged, remember." He mocked, tilting her head to the side as his lips grazed her neck. Her breathing was short for an entirely different reason. She grasped his face with her hands, resting his forehead on hers. She stared into his hazel eyes, stared into the truth.

"That doesn't make me want you any less."

Cassian searched for the lie, but he wouldn't find one. She had had enough of this war with herself. She wouldn't win, and she didn't want to. Not if it meant losing herself in the process, losing any ounce of happiness she still had left.

Nesta clenched her eyes together, trying to find the right words, trying to make him understand the pounding in her skull. She felt the soft graze of his thumb along her cheek, felt the way his fingers smoothed the lines of her face. Her body softened at his presence.

"It's okay. I know." He gently spoke. What once was fire, was now an echo of warmth. She stepped into his arms, while he wrapped himself around her. As much as she wanted to be the strong one, as much as she wanted to be the one to let go first, she couldn't help but want to be held.

* * *

The day of the wedding had her stomach clenching. She had run to the bathroom before she ruined her sheets or the floor. Her face was washed in white, and she barely slept a wink. Nesta didn't want to think about how her fiancé was faring.

The water she splashed on her face did nothing to cool the heat of her cheeks or calm her feverish body. She looked in the mirror, hoping to see someone who was ready, who was able. Nesta only saw a scared, little girl wishing for the world to end.

She heard the booming sound of a knock on her door. She opened it with eager anticipation. Hoping someone was there to save her burdened soul, wishing someone had heard her silent screams. But it was only the servants, rushing to get her cleaned and pretty. She wanted to shout at all of them to leave her alone.

Her sisters came to see her, Elain weaving flowers in her hair and painting her lips and cheeks red. Feyre stayed sitting on Nesta's bed, waiting and bored. Only once did Nesta look her in the eyes, she only saw a deep curiosity hidden beneath the blue of her irises.

The dress hung from the door. Her fingers itched to tear the fabric, to rip the one thing that could stop this wedding. She couldn't ruin anything else. She stared at it, in anguish. Though the wedding was hours away, Nesta didn't want to put it on. She didn't want to feel the weight of it or its expectations.

Soon after, they all left her, giving the soon-to-be wife a moment of peace, a moment to be alone, before she belonged to someone else. As much as she wanted the freedom, she couldn't stand her thoughts.

She paced around the room, looking for any place to escape to, but there wasn't any. It was too late to run. She had made her bed, she had to lie in it. She had signed that contract, she had to obey its content. Her body shook and gasps escaped her lips. Even without the tightened bodice, she could barely breathe.

When she was sure nothing could hold her any longer, she heard a tap on the window. She rushed to it, opening it in a hurry to escape. She saw him standing there, with a rose in his hand. Red. She was glad it didn't equal the likeness of the others.

She looked around the outside, and rushed him in before anyone could see. It all happened so quickly. One minute she had her hand on the handle, the next she had her arms wrapped around his neck. His presence alone calmed her restless spirit.

"You look beautiful." He said as his nose brushed her neck. She didn't feel beautiful, she only felt painted and made. She willed herself to speak lightly, to not show him she was breaking right before his eyes.

"I do clean up nicely." She spoke, voice steady as a river. Nesta untangled herself from his and walked towards her bed. She sat, clasping her hands together. "The dress is right there. I'll have to put it on soon enough."

Cassian bit his lip and went to sit next to her. He stared at the wall, while she stared at her fingers. "Well, you'll be married today. It seems like only yesterday, I was taking you beneath the tree."

It was just like him to make her laugh when all she wanted to do was cry. "That was yesterday." She replied. The tilt of his lips made her heart beat in an even tempo. His smile made her glad. Everything was going terribly around her, but at least he still smiled.

His eyes softened and he tilted his head towards her. "Nesta, can I kiss you? For old time's sake." He softly spoke. Her mouth opened, and she was sure she looked doe eyed, but she couldn't help the way he made her feel. It was the last chance she'd ever have.

The kiss started off slow. A sweet caress, a loving goodbye. But it soon turned into hungry embraces and breathless panting. Her arms wrapped around his neck and his, around her back. She felt the strong lines of his shoulders, of his torso. She moved to sit on his lap, and he moved to accommodate her.

All too soon, Cassian paused. Desperately searching her face for some sign to stop, to slow down, to scream or run or yell. But not one came. She wanted this more than anything. She began again. She kissed him with equal fervor, with every rage she held in herself, with every bitter thought that came out of her, with every single spec of love she had only for him. This society may have told her who owned her body, but she wasn't married for another few hours, and she owed him nothing but a ring on her finger.

"I want this." She whispered into his neck as she kissed her way down. "I want this more than anything in the world." Nesta stared at his expression, stared at his closed eyes and open mouth. She kissed the corner of his lips, grazing his cheek with her hand.

"I wish you weren't getting married." He quietly sounded. Her lips tilted upwards, sadness painting her blue eyes in grey. He pecked her lips gently once, going lower and lower until her head tilted backwards from the pleasure.

"You deserve more than a fucking romp inside a dressing room." He said angrily, clawing at her garment. He set his head on hers and breathed in her scent. Vanilla, Hybern's favorite smell. He clenched his eyes together, and Nesta could see the vein protruding from his forehead.

"I deserve more than a lot of things, but _this_. This I won't regret." His hazel eyes found her own. He asked, by the light of his eyes, a question he already knew the answer to. His lips touched her own, and his hands went on a journey past the folds of her skirt.

They didn't stop and Nesta found she didn't have the will left in her to fight the pull guiding them to each other. The touch of skin was the only thing she felt as Nesta let herself get carried away by the sound of his voice and the gentle caress of his fingertips.

* * *

Even in her dress, white as fresh snow, she couldn't help but feel like a liar. As If she had put on a mask to show everyone that she was perfect. Perfect like the house she lived in, like the people who thought she was a doll to play with. The fabric made her itch, and red skin left in its wake. She clawed at the bodice willing herself to breathe. To show herself strong and able. Nesta only felt trapped. Trapped in her dress, her body, _and_ this marriage.

She walked down the aisle, ivory petals scattered on the runner. Every step was a stride in the mud, slowing her down, until she almost stopped altogether. Nesta looked around. Took in all the smiling faces of her father, of her sisters, of family-friends, of business partners. Everyone surrounding her, pretending that she wasn't marrying a wolf dressed in finery. Trapped inside a snow globe of expectations. Her fists clenched the bouquet, she swore it would crumble by the strength of her fists.

Tears started streaming down her face, as she began, again, the walk of her shame. People awed, tilts of lips telling her that she was just a blushing bride. Crying out of joy and splendor. A new beginning, ready to spread her wings like the elegant butterfly. She couldn't possibly tell them that she felt like the caterpillar ready to die.

At last, she stood at the podium. Side by side Hybern, whose face looked bored and fatigued. He had circles under his eyes. She hoped he had trouble sleeping as much as she did. Nesta didn't hear the words of the priest, she didn't hear the vows he preached they'd honor or the love that he swore they had. All she felt was the quiet stillness of oblivion. As if a blanket had been thrown over her to shield her from the dark.

When the time came for her to say those blasted words, the priest had to repeat the question. She had looked at anywhere but Hybern, as she said "I do," sealing her fate and her prison. Hybern tilted her head upwards and his lips touched hers. She could not rival his fervor or enthusiasm. Her heart felt drained, and her body, winded. She waited as everyone applauded, throwing rice in the air. She tried to smile, but her mind was far away.

Hybern grabbed her hand, holding it up like he had won a prize. She _was_ his prize. She stared at Feyre as he dragged her past the progression. She saw her fierce gaze clobber into Nesta's. Her blue eyes screamed the truth, to run, to hide. But it was all too late, as she passed her sister. Nesta remembered only one thing. Hybern's hand was cold.

* * *

*Took me forever, I almost gave up so many times. Shout out to sparkleywonderful for putting up with my endless ramblings about how I can't write lol. Couldn't have done it without you.

Also this chapter could have been better, and I hoped it'd be better, but really this chapter was so difficult for me to write, I was done as soon as it was finsihed. So (shrugs)

P.S. I don't write smut, I'll leave that to the professionals. So this is as warm as it gets.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 **Title: The Sound of Your Voice Calls to Me**

* * *

 **Finally updated! yay! Who knows when that'll happen again!**

* * *

Nesta couldn't sleep. Every gallop of the horses, every jostle of the carriage reminded her that she was farther and farther away. Further from the truth, and further from her future. She had only herself to rely on, only herself to blame.

She could tell they were somewhere in the mountains by the change in the temperature- how the air was cleaner, heavier even, how it stole the breath from her lungs. Cold pierced her skin like needles and if she cried she was sure every tear would have turned to ice. It didn't bother her as much as the man she shared the room with.

Through the window she could see the fog enshrouding them in misery, coating the carriage with blankets of regret and dismay. It too knew how cold her hands were.

Her husband had not spoken to her, had not even looked in her direction. He had not voiced his derision on the long, less than sturdy, journey. He had not addressed the eerie silence. Hybern merely stared out the window, long lashes framing sterile, blue eyes.

Nesta was sure he knew her stare, had memorized the harsh glare from the very moment he introduced himself. Nesta was sure he knew everything; she could feel it between every breath and beat. It was hidden beneath the cold glass of the window, beneath the elegant gold of her gown. She was a wish. A truth. A gift- to everyone, but maybe not to him.

She couldn't sleep knowing that as soon as she closed her eyes, his gaze would peruse his prize, would feast on the idea of leaving her breathless, leaving her with nothing but skin and cold hands. He'd imagine what she would look like with his hands painted across her skin, with his breath entwined with hers. As if their bodies were so entangled and enraptured, their hearts beat the same.

If she didn't dream, he couldn't either.

It was a simple thing, to stay awake. She didn't have much to dream about anyway.

* * *

It was her own fault, waking up and realizing she had fallen asleep. She chided herself for being weaker than she thought. Nesta had never been fragile and defenseless, but perhaps her education taught her in the ways she refused to acknowledge.

It must have been the sounds outside that awoke her, the rustling and yells to steady the horses. It could have been the motionless carriage and its refusal to move an inch more. Nesta was sure it was the tug of Hybern's hand on her dress. One strong pull that told her to move or he'd leave her behind.

She knew he wouldn't dare to. She was the show as much as he was.

Nesta followed him past the fabric covering the door. When her foot stepped down, she wished for the carriage. She didn't like the ride, but she preferred it to the harsh sun.

She saw the walls before anything else. Grey bricks piled on grey bricks, a prison to hold her and everyone else captive.

Hybern did not hold out his hand as a gentleman should have. He did not even spare her a glance. As she made her way down the stool, her foot caught on the edge. Her shoe slipped off as she steadied herself by the coach's hand.

Her eyes widened at the discrepancy, as it was then that her husband chose to look behind him. It was her first mistake, and it would surely be her last. Nesta did not want to see that look again or the rage he buried within. His fists clenched.

"Mor, my wife needs your attention." A bored tilt to his voice, but a command no one could refuse.

A young woman moved to assist her. If Nesta had loved Hybern, she would have been jealous to have this woman so close to her.

"Yes, my lord." She bowed graciously, and moved with swift feet in her direction. "As you wish."

Nesta couldn't tell what made her wary of the blonde women bowed before her. She couldn't tell if it was the hair that shined like gold in the sunlight, the red taint of her solemn lips, or the fact that her eyes were like hers, dead inside. All she knew was that she was far too pretty to be a maid.

Mor picked up the delicate shoe, a grin playing on Hybern's lips as he watched her kneeled. Nesta tried to hide the disgust, tried not to look at her husband and one of his many games. She only stared at the woman who picked up her foot and gently fit the shoe back on. As Nesta stood upright, so did Mor.

Maybe she wasn't supposed to see it, maybe she was. Storm clouds met blue skies, but there was nothing clear about them.

In a flash quick as lightning she saw it, a mutual flame inside each of their gazes. Something cunning and impure. Something to hold on to in this war they both found themselves fighting in. Outside these gaping castle walls, perhaps, they weren't as alone as they felt.

As Mor walked away, Nesta couldn't help but feel like she was missing something.

* * *

When the lightning flashed and the chandelier rattled, when all the servants had departed and only two were left in the dining hall, when everything seemed too quiet, Nesta's hands began to shake.

Her heartbeat pounded louder than the rain on the rooftop and her eyes held a storm of their own. She closed them when even the dim light became too bright for the trembling room.

Nesta heard the footsteps behind her. Click after click, heel toe, heel toe. Music in her ears, but sweat in her palms. She tried not to cringe as his hands laid on her shoulders, his presence a shadow behind her small frame.

She tried to pretend she wasn't afraid, tried to remember that she was an adult. She was strong. She was capable. She was not a little girl. But she wanted to run to the closet anyway, and hide from the monsters that howled beyond the night.

The candles flickered, in and out, like the breathing she tried to maintain, like the heartbeat she tried to calm. Pitter-patter, booming, and swinging chandeliers didn't stop the music from getting louder and louder, until even the ringing in her ears wasn't loud enough.

"Come." He whispered. "The night has only begun."

He grabbed her hand and led her past the pretentious staircase and the laughing walls. Only a fool would have thought she could have, somehow, escaped her dreams.

* * *

 **I wrote this real quick because inspiration, and the story line is clearer to me now. However, it's still gonna take me forever to update this. Sorry. What can I do? Let me know what you think or if you're confused lol. I haven't reread the previous chapters so….**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: In the Darkness, They Roar**

* * *

She grasped the candle firmly, trailing her other hand along the wall as she descended the hallway. Her hand shook, and her head ached, and all she could think of was that she must have been in some parallel universe where people didn't exist. Only darkness and judgment and fear.

Nesta knew she should have been composed, with even breaths and slow steps. She was a lady brought up to be beautiful even when no one was watching, even if there was _always_ someone watching. She just needed to get away from that room, with its smells and his naked skin.

The air rushed out of her and she couldn't catch her breath. In the shadows, she saw his fingers tinkering with her ribbons, his lips trailing her collarbone to the top of her throat, like a snake encircling her. When his hand covered her neck, she swallowed, and he had laughed. Nesta never thought she would know what evil sounded like. He squeezed― she had squeezed her eyes shut.

They remained shut until he had stopped moving altogether, content and soft. Unmenacing in slumber, as someone buried under six feet of dirt and snow, with only the worms for company.

She slipped out of the red sheets, past the red walls, toward the red that pumped from her heart to her brain. If she was far enough from him, maybe she could pretend it never existed, the night, the nightmare, the hands, and lips, and wine. The pieces that blurred together in front of her until her steps couldn't even comprehend who she was or where she was going― to a parallel universe, any universe that didn't make her want to vomit or scrub her skin until it was red and bleeding.

The floor creaked and the candlestick threatened to blow. Nesta willed herself to remain still and quiet, quietly shushing her racing heart as it ticked on and on like the giant clock looming in the foyer. She could hear whispers from the staircase, heard the footsteps of impending doom.

Maybe this had always been her fate, to be stuck in a hallway with portraits of faces she couldn't see and didn't know. To be stuck halfway between being captured and being invisible. She didn't know what she preferred.

But as the voices neared, Nesta figured she had two choices: to eat or be eaten.

She was nobody's prey.

* * *

At the start of their relationship, she would often find herself dreaming about him. Cassian had a way with people, looked at them with bright eyes, reflecting the way he saw the world. Quiet, tranquil, and good.

Nesta hadn't thought the world was _that_ good. But somehow, despite her complete distrust in the world and at times, herself, she had believed him. It was possible to be better everyday and to look and see and listen. To hope.

She wasn't sure if she should anymore, if she was still capable, even. Her fate had clamped her heart in a tight fist and her hope had run away screaming.

The world had collapsed many times since the wedding, before the wedding, and probably long after, but Nesta wondered how many bridges would burn before she decided to stop building them altogether.

Instead of those sweet hazel eyes gazing at her lovingly, with understanding and compassion, she could only see that man's lips sneering cruelly at his wife.

But what a wife she would be- _How could she play this?_

She awoke to the sound of crates and spoons, and brightness that neither came from the window nor the light colors of her room.

The two women in front of her bowed as they neared, and Nesta with wide eyes looked around. She looked down at herself, with her white nightgown billowing around her. Nothing red. Nothing dismal. She had never been so happy to be clothed in her entire life.

 _A dream, it was all a dream._ She settled down into the soft sheets and lavender pillows.

"Hello." The younger of the two whispered.

Innocent smiles painted her face in soft breezes and gentle winds. They reminded her of Feyre and Elain. Two sprites brightening the otherwise dark and decrepit castle.

"I'm Nuala." The younger one spoke. Nesta could hear their accented voices, but she couldn't pinpoint the origin. Turning to her sister, she began again. "This is Cerridwen. We are your house maids."

They bowed graciously, the tilt of their lips lightening Nesta somehow.

They reached for her and she couldn't help the way she aimed towards the scent of roses, so much like Elain she wanted to grasp them and never let go.

"Come, the wife of our lord has much to do."

At the meaning of the words, Nesta caught herself in the mirror, her reflection ruffled and eager. Her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes were menacing. Angry. _Wife._ She'd never get used to that title- the name with nothing behind it but pages of agreements and a library of sacrifices.

The anger made her taller, the bitterness a sharp rod poking her spine. Though she wore no crown, she was every bit as powerful as the kings who ruled here, even if they only labeled her a witch or a _wife_.

They stepped back, she stepped forward, and her heart leaped into a cage, locked away and fighting every bit of her words.

"We have much to prepare for."

* * *

Her mind churned with the possibilities. If she were normal, if she had felt nothing and lived for nothing all the same, she would behave, listen, and dote like a proper wife, tacked onto Hybern's fine suit as if she were his polished cufflinks. Indeed, if she was good and proper.

If she was good and proper, she would not have snuck past her duties like a shadow at noonday, she would not have climbed the stairs and entered the little room behind the library. She would not have stayed there and listened.

It turned out she was neither good nor proper.

"I don't need more men. I need my men to start acting like they were bred for war."

Nesta admired how Hybern's voice sounded nonchalant and uncaring, even if, by the topic of conversation, he should have cared very much. She pitied the fool who willing argued with him, even if he ended up being right.

She had learned a long time ago, arguing with self-righteous men was a task left to the dead and those who wanted to die.

"My lord, this attack is futile. They outnumber us, and their weapons are not anything like we've ever seen. Half of our legion is dead. This battle is not looking favorably on our side."

Nesta could imagine the shake of his head, the crease in the man's eyebrows as he explained and tried and got nowhere still.

"Now, I suggest we just cut our losses, and leave the land to their king―"

"If I had wanted a woman's opinions on this war, I would have asked my wife to command my armies," Hybern sneered, contention oozing from his lips.

Nesta could almost here the sound of this man's throat as he swallowed and contemplated. A cry for help in the middle of chaos. Silent, but loud. He was a fool for even questioning.

The room was waiting for a pin to drop, and she was waiting for information, confirmation, a light in dark place. She would have taken an axe, if they told her she'd have to swing her way out.

"Tell them if they don't win, provided they have not died horribly in battle, I will cut off the heads of everyone they love, and I will let them sleep next to the dead corpses of their lovers."

She swore she could hear the man's deep breaths, could smell the fear and anguish. Her hands shook at his hatred.

"Tell them, I'll let them tuck their children's' bodies into the graves they will dig themselves, and if they're lucky I'll let them sleep beside them too.

Do you understand me clearly?"

"Yes, my lord."

Innocent people, innocent lives, so easily taken by the hatred of one man who decided he could rule them all. If he wanted, if he dared. Her hands clenched at his words, she could almost imagine his neck in between her fists.

If she was sane, she would have decided to stop the nonsense, to stop envision her escape or her happiness. It was gone like the army's freedom, her freedom.

But Nesta had loved too strongly to be compliant and ignorant. Her family was all she had, that and her intelligence. She may have been forced to give up one for the sake of the other, but Nesta would not lose her pride, her memories, or her control. She would not let him take her hope too.

* * *

She sat inside the small room for hours, past the bang of the clock, past the voices and the endless cries. Only when she could hear her breathing alone, did she dare to take a step outside.

It was dark, just like it had been that day, that dream. Nesta stared right at the pictures with no names and no faces, next to that winding staircase that she imagined someone falling and falling, never to reach the bottom.

Her eyes closed, and she took a deep breath. The only option she could come up with was to scheme.

To get her way, he'd have to trust her; he'd have to believe she was his saving grace. Nesta would have to rescue him from the tower he built himself.

Hybern would believe he'd made a wife turned lover turned friend. In reality, he'd made a weapon, ready to thrust a knife into his heart―

Or lead an army to his front door.

She was so busy planning, she didn't even hear the soft patter from the stairs.

"What are you doing here?"

Nesta lashed backwards at the words, her heart beating and fast. She closed her eyes and prayed it was not someone who saw her sneaking into the library.

But it was only the housemaid. Mor he called her.

She was carrying a small, beige basket, cradled in her arms like a child. Nesta saw her arms tighten around it at the questioning gaze.

"I am lost." She reasoned.

Mor simply turned her eyes towards the direction of her room. Her eyes were cold, lifeless, and shallow. Bored.

Nesta nodded her head and thanked her for the help. She only looked back once as she made her way down the hall. She saw Mor grasp the basket closer and watched her as she walked away. Watched her with eyes that looked just like her own, when she had looked in the mirror that morning. Ready and waiting―

Perhaps Hybern had made two weapons.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! See you next year ;)**


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